My Country's Only Borders Lie Around My Heart
by twirltheflag
Summary: "Chess" told in the form of "Hetalia. A love square between America, Hungary, Russia, and Belarus. Two underhanded managers, each from two different countries that are giving each other the cold shoulder. How will this end for everyone?
1. Info

**CAST:**

**Arbiter: Roman Empire/Arsenius Vargas**

**Frederick "Freddy" Trumper: America/Alfred F. Jones**

**Anatoly Sergievsky: Russia/Ivan Braginski**

**Florence Vassy: Hungary/Elizabeta Hedervary**

**Svetlana Sergievsky: Belarus/Natalia Braginski**

**Alexander Molokov: Prussia/Gilbert Beilschmidt**

**Walter De Courcy: Germany/Ludwig Beilschmidt (Walter is, technically, supposed to be American but I couldn't think of anyone else who'd be so underhanded and loud like him.)**

**EXTRAS:**

**Italy/Feliciano Vargas**

**India/Neeraja Patal**

**Egypt/Gupta Muhammad Hassan**

**Turkey/Sadia Adnan**

**Mexico/Manuel Sanchez**

**Brazil/Esteves**

**El Salvador/Alicia Sanchez**

**Puerto Rico/Eva Sanchez**

**Argintina/Andres Garcia**

**Peru/Arturo Garcia**

**Portugal/Fausto Esteves**

**Spain/Antonio Fernandez Carriedo**

**France/Francis Bonnefoy**

**Poland/Feliks Lukasiewicz**

***Czechoslovakia/Holic Pekar  
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**Romania/Anica Popescu  
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***Bulgaria/Ana Gavril  
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***Albania/Valon Zamyr  
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***Yugoslavia/Igor Snjezana  
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**Some of the extras characters haven't been given names yet so I made them up. They're the ones that have * next to them.  
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**Okay, so there will be occasions when I use the actual lyrics from the play. In which case, those will not be my words. Other than that, everything I write is in my own words.**

**I may make a YouTube Series out of this someday.**


	2. The Story of Chess

Prologue

Arsenius, gently, pulled of his white, silk gloves before checking his appearance in the mirror.

I quick tightening of the tie, a simple tug at his suit and he was ready.

He turned away from his mirror and stared at his most prize possession; a chess board made from yellow and white gold.

He circled the board, gently fingering the precious, handmade pieces.

Nostalgia filled the room as he thought about how he saw this timeless game come into being and how he watched it grow.

It was the year 479 A.D.

Arsenius fell from his Roman throne but 3 years earlier.

After his downfall, he fled to India, where a Hindu King and Queen gave him shelter and food without any remorse.

After 3 years, Arsenius felt, almost, like family as he watched the Hindu King's sons grow into strong princes.

But, by this time, the King was bed ridden.

Arsenius remembered how this great, kind King had never had any of the land or power that he had once had, three years ago.

Yet, this King told him that he was content with the life he had had. A beautiful, lovely wife and two, proud sons was all the King needed to die happy and move on to see what the next life had in store for him.

However, once the Hindu King had moved on to be reincarnated, things took a turn for the worst.

Both of the Princes wanted their father's throne and power.

And they fought for it, not showing an ounce of mercy towards one another.

They fought against their mother's protests.

And, in the end, one of the Princes fought until he died.

The queen was stricken with grief. First, she lost her husband and the only man she had ever loved. Then, she lost her youngest child to her oldest son.

She scolded and screamed at the victorious son.

"Look at all the grief and trouble this has caused all of us! Your father would be ashamed if he could see you now! I'll never forgive you for this! You are no longer my son!"

The prince tried to tell his mother the truth but she would here none of it; there was nothing he could say to welcome him back into her family.

And so, the youth went to the wisest men he knew. Medicine men and shamans. Men of study and history. Men of religion.

They all spoke and came to a conclusion.

The only the Prince would ever gain the Queens forgiveness was if he proved that the late prince had caused his own downfall?

How would the boy do this?

He would re-create the battle on a board of alternating black-and-white squares.

The prince did just this in the presence of the queen. He copied every single battle maneuver that he had his bother had made.

Only then was it clear; the dead prince had made a fatal mistake in the battle and it had cost him his life.

That is how the game was born.

And from there, it could only grow.

Arsenius joined his friend, Neeraja, on a journey that took the two West to Persia.

There, the two travelers met with the King of Persia, who took great interest in the game that the travelers had brought to his land.

After commissioning his own boards to be made, the Persian King sent the travelers with some of his own men to teach Persia's Arabic neighbors the game.

Once there, the great Queen of Ancient Egypt found the game interesting but wanted it to be redesigned to have the all the pieces protect a more important piece.

Once the game was refined it spread.

Even later, in 1453, when Constantinople fell, if one had search the possessions of the refugees, one would notice that every refugee had a set of pieces from the game.

This made the game travel up to Europe, where it, quickly, spread to all of the great leaders of the Renaissance.

Thus, the game was taken across the ocean to the new world; the Americas, where the pieces took on their finale appearances.

That is how the game came to be what it was and Arsenius saw it all happen.

Then, centuries later, there he was in 1979, President of the World Chess Federation.

He was in Merano, Italy; land that he had once ruled as a great figure.

But he returned to this land, content to just be the King of the Checkered Board.

Now, the game was used to determine the world Champion of Chess.

And that year proved to be promising.

Just as the United States of America were locked in a Cold War with the Soviet Union, citizens from both of these countries were locked in war on the board.

Alfred F. Jones. A citizen of the United States of America. The world champion at the time. Judging from how much money he had demanded to come to Meranoa, that title of Champion had made him excruciatingly proud.

On the other hand, his opponent was quiet different.

Ivan Braginski. A citizen of the Soviet Union. He was quiet young. The fact that someone of his age had made it this far had shocked many people. But Braginski had trained hard for the focus and strategy that he had. Perhaps his anti-social habits were a part of that strategy.

Jones vs. Braginski. United States of America vs. Soviet Union. Capitalism vs. Communism.

No matter how you put it, the pairing was amusing and exciting.

Arsenius smirked at the thought and looked out his window which over look Merano.

"Welcome, World, to Merano."


	3. MeranoWhat a Scene! What a Joy!

Chapter 1

Merano, Italy.

A city that Rodgers and Hammerstein could use as a setting in a musical.

Once, it was under German Occupation.

But despite that, the city had brought itself out of the gutter and became a sensation.

A perfect place for quiet vacations, quiet honeymoons, quiet weddings or just quiet recuperation.

Yes, everything about Merano was quiet.

It was serene. Far away from incredibly nosy city life.

Here was a place for someone to get away from the world.

Beautiful mountains.

Sparkling streams.

Bracing air.

The nature was grand.

And so were the cities prices.

Despite how very timid the city seemed, the demand for money was about as high as New York.

The city lived off of the money they made from tourists who came to relax.

Therapy salts.

Spas.

Luxury hotels.

Health resorts.

The city thrived off of these things that everyone came to use.

And, when I say "everyone", I mean "EVERYONE".

No one had ever passed by Merano without spending at least one day there.

And many, who were just going to pass by, stayed one night and never left. It was just the perfect.

And no one objected to it's perfection.

Merano was famous, but quietly famous.

Until the World Chess Championship came to town.

After that, press and paparazzi from all over the world flew into Merano to get the big stories.

The town's serenity was turned upside down.

And at the center of it all was Alfred F. Jones.

The American who was the World Champion at the time.

He was a good chess player.

And he knew it.

He was arrogant.

Snobby.

Stubborn.

Bratty.

He knew that the press were there for him and he relished in it, even if they didn't write good things about him, which happened quiet often.

He didn't care about the slandering.

Now matter how much trouble he got in, his partner, number 2, and girlfriend would always defend him.

Elizabeta Hedervary.

Alfred's Chess Playing Second.

Always there to defend him when the newspapers tore him down.

But she was in the game and taking all the mud for her own reasons.


End file.
